


Pranks n' Beans

by Weavillain



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Fourth of July, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weavillain/pseuds/Weavillain
Summary: Not even the celebration of America's independence is hallowed ground to Luan Loud, who hopes to catch her family unaware with yet another prank. (4th of July fic)





	Pranks n' Beans

Only a peek of the Sun clings in the air, melding its lingering radiance with the dark blue canvas of the twilight sky and shining thick sinews of blazing violet and orange. Nature's palette wasn't all that painted the heavens as throughout the state of Michigan, dazzling fireworks sprinkle up above, splotching the sky in short-lived bursts of multi-colored flashes.

Ooh's and aah's were abound on this Fourth of July evening from anyone spectating the pyrotechnics but a more close-knit camaraderie was a cherished utility for those who kept their focus below and on the surrounding faces of friends and family…

Oh, and all the food. Can't forget about the food. Hamburgers, hot dogs, and all that other mouth-watering jazz. Nothing beat an evening barbecue with family, a sentiment that most of the residents of 1216 Franklin Avenue employ as they mix and mingle in the backyard.

Even though the Louds weren't quite like the typical, nuclear family, they weren't above falling in line with traditional Fourth of July activities, albeit louder.  _Much_  louder, regardless of the chagrin of neighbors.

There's the father manning the grill and minding the other food he prepared ahead of time.

There's the mini game of football between eager beavers (Lynn, Lana, and Luna) and reluctant participants (Lincoln, Lola, and Lucy). The beavers score yet another touchdown and gloat, not a care in the world given by the opposing team.

There's the avid consumer of hotdogs at the wooden dining table, munching down her fifth frankfurter but making sure not to have a spot of her red, white, and blue handcrafted dress ruined by the grease and condiments that adorn her meal.

There's the mother watching from afar as her infant daughter toddles about, giggling and swatting at the fireflies that buzz around her from a close but safe proximity.

There's the social wallflower, who sits at the dining table and watches, through round eyeglasses, as her family engages in merriment that she doesn't find amusing.

There's the insistent older sister, who tries to coax her little sister into joining in on the fun. Her offer is, once again, turned down but she's not about to let that stop her, especially since seeing her entire family bask in this tradition is one of the last things that she hopes she gets to see before heading off to college in a few months.

Only one true irregularity stood among them, stationed by the house with folded arms and a self-satisfied grin.

Luan eyes the big, silver pot in the middle of the dining table and tampers down her mischief from melting into her features, thereby exposing her scheme with the telltale symptoms of a giddy prankster who just can't wait for her trap to be sprung.

To her family, the pot contains a hearty, thick stew of franks n' beans, a delicacy that's yet to be touched. What they  _didn't_  know was that a last-minute addition was inconspicuously added to the mixture by the pony-tailed jokester; magnesium citrate but in the hands of a wily schemer, it's known more fondly by its layman's terms, liquid laxative. A week ago, the utilized brand was shipped from Fanny's Prank Emporium, so Luan  _knows_  she's going to get the best results.

It's not against her code of honor or anything; she's  _still_  going to pull out all the big guns on the first of April. But what was a Fourth of July without some…fireworks?

Luan giggles at the metaphor. Finding amusement in poop jokes wasn't normally par for the course for her but when such a simple yet genius plan came together so easily, she can easily draw mirth from even the lowest of places.

"Dad, when're the ribs gonna be ready?!"

Luan turns her head towards the source of the noise and spots Lana, hovering over a grumbling Lucy because of a flooring tackle.

"Just a few more minutes, Lana!" Lynn Sr. calls from his post, underneath a plume of charcoaled smoke that blankets half of his body. "Just try some of the other food I've got lined up if you want something in your belly in the meantime! Maybe the franks n' beans!"

"Okay!"

Luan smirks.  _'Bingo.'_

Luan watches Lana race over to her trap, blissfully unaware of the tainted nourishment she was about to wolf down. Luan admits that Lana wasn't her optimal choice (there was a certain bratty little sister that had yet to be taught a lesson about borrowing her scrunchies without permission) but still, one prank victim was just as good as any.

Oh well. She can always go easy on her when the next round of April pranking comes around.

Snickers are repressed behind tightened lips and strained facial muscles as Luan watches Lana help herself to a hearty helping, not even bothering to use a bowl as she scoops out a chunk of the brown, gooey concoction in her hand and crams it down her mouth.

She chews thrice before swallowing. Luan waits for the bomb to go off while Lana stands still, apparently stricken by the effects of her laced meal already.

But after ten seconds, Lana isn't hunched over and hopping around before she makes a beeline towards the bathroom. Luan's wide grin forms into a befuddled frown, uneasiness settling in her belly with as much vigor as laced franks n' beans did…or should. Lana's  _still_  not in agony. Instead, she's reaching down for seconds. And thirds. And fourths.

Luan's mouth falls agape, the failing advertisement of her laxative knocking her off her stride; Lana should've been in distress from the very first mouthful!

Lana licks her fingers clean and lets out a belch. "Wow, Dad! You really outdid yourself this year!"

The smoke hides Lynn Sr.'s proud grin but his ears are attuned to his daughter's next declaration. "Hey, guys, come try this out! It's delicious!"

A ray of hope gleams through Luan's body at the prospect, a mixture of optimism and delusion fabricating the elation. Okay, so Lana was used to eating unsavory things. Maybe her gut was steel-forged, immune to the effects of her trick. Oh, but the rest of them? Not a chance.

' _This is gonna be good,'_  Luan thinks as her family huddles around the pot and pours out a serving for themselves in plastic bowls.

With the timing of a synchronized swimming team, they take their spoons, shovel out an ample dose of their doom, and plunge it into their mouths.

Luan's never felt more intrigued by mastication before in her life, even if the chewing itself isn't what will ultimately bring her the pleasure.

Except it's been half a minute and none of them, not a single one, exhibit any signs of gastronomical panic. Apparently, the invulnerability of laxatives is a trait that  _runs_ in the family.

Luan can't even bring herself to laugh at the pun. She's far too disappointed of her plan not coming to fruition.

"Hey, Luan!" Luan turned her focus to Lincoln, who looked eager to invite her over to her awaiting family, who sport smiles of their own. "Why don't you try some, too?! It's really good!"

Luan is many things but a heartless monster, she is not (at least in her opinion). Even though her prank has failed spectacularly, she can't help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside from how inclusive they are to the source of their would-be distress. So, with dashed hopes but tendered spirits, Luan joins them and instead of getting a bowl of her own, Lucy hands hers off to her, along with a spoon that Lori pokes into the stew.

Luan looks down at the food, a kernel of doubt sprouting from the soil of caution, and hesitates to do anything while her trepidation is closely watched.

"Something wrong, dear?"

Luan looked up at her mother and shook her head, a forced smile on her face. "Well no, it's just that…"

Luan held her tongue. On second thought, divulging her plans probably wasn't a good idea. Even in the casualty-free hindsight, Luan can't foresee pleased reactions from the truth. Their priviness to her plot would've only been worth it  _if_ they had been bamboozled.

With nary a care in the world, Luan followed suit with everyone else and ate several spoonfuls of franks n' beans in rapid succession. The delicacy slid down her throat seamlessly and tingled pleasurably in her tummy.

And then, the tingle turned into molten lava, churning and thrashing violently in her gut.

"What the?!" Luan exclaims as she drops her bowl and clutches her roaring, tortured belly.

All strength in her legs is lost and she falls to the grass on her knees, groaning as her intestines are twisted in knots and dragged through hot coals. She looks around her, searching for answers and is met by twelve smug, knowing faces.

The anguish that throttles her stomach allows only one, spluttered, monosyllabic cry. "H-how?!"

"'Anti-Prank Contingency #271.'"

Lisa steps forward, arms behind her back. Luan groans at both a pang of a spiky, severing stab that prods her insides and the inevitability of hearing another one of Lisa's self-important expositions. "We've been preparing for a moment such as this for a very long time. Ever since this year's April 1st passed us, we've painstakingly colluded in secrecy, fabricating countless scenarios in which you'd attempt to befuddle us with one of your cruel yet astute pranks. As of now, we've reached eight hundred eighty-five."

"It just so happened," Lynn chimes in, "that we were right on the money with this one."

"That's why Lisa went in ahead of time and whipped up some dissolvable tablets for us," Lori says, her smirk belying regret. "And the best part is, they make it so we don't have to worry about the effects of laxatives for up to an entire day."

Eyes bulge in Luan's skull. Her breath exhales in strained, cramped bursts. The urge, the need to relieve herself from her backfire…it almost snaps her insides in half. But before Luan can run away, Lincoln leaves her with one last taunt.

"We know it's called #271 but in this case, we should call it number two!"

The last thing Luan hears, as she runs towards the house, is her family chortling before yelling out in unison, "Get it?!"


End file.
